


Play For Me

by TheClumsyHero



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14215656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClumsyHero/pseuds/TheClumsyHero
Summary: Easter is a particularly sacred holiday for a young Christine; as a religious young woman she enjoys celebrating with friends and family and is honored to cantor for her church. When her organist falls ill, she finds herself turning to the most talented instrumentalist she knows.Modern ERA





	Play For Me

It was in the early hours of the morning that Erik had stirred; though perhaps that wasn't the most appropriate term to use, for typically one needed to sleep in order to stir and rise. It was hardly an inconvenience to the man; sleep was fleeting for him and he'd come to accept this as a constant in his life. He supposed it was also the woman sleeping in the adjacent room that kept him awake with eagerness and perhaps even joy. 

Christine's residence in his home was not a recent occurrence, however, it was rare she stayed the night. She was a busy woman, and with shows and rehearsals and her own job (which Erik constantly remarked about; she was meant for the arts not a Starbucks) she often was spread thin. It was on the weekends that there was the slight possibility of her staying over. After a long night of composing, talking and maybe a spat or two she'd retired to her designated room. He had had a phantom grin painted across his features ever since; her presence was a refreshing change and one he'd admire as long as her stay extended. 

When sleep evaded him, he settled on making breakfast so that when his angel did awaken from her slumber she could at least be somewhat surprised; a pleasant one if he did say so himself. 

It was Erik who was surprised, though, for when Christine appeared from her room the Phantom found his breath momentarily catch in his throat.

He was never ignorant to the beauty that Christine Daaé possessed; she was an elegant creature, one that surpassed any other woman he'd ever had the pleasure (or displeasure) of crossing paths with. She still never failed to leave him in awe with this beauty she so openly flaunted. She wore a powder blue dress, one that very generously complimented her eyes, he noted. The top was sheer and covered in knitted flowers that covered her chest and arms.  
She certainly made it look stunning.

When he managed to pull himself back together he scooped his omelette off the skillet, and his gaze moved back onto his work.

"What is the occasion?"  
He could tell Christine was thoroughly amused with his question; that usually indicated the answer was an obvious one.  
"Really, Erik? It's Easter! How could you have forgotten?" 

Right, Easter. He should have swatted himself for forgetting that; she'd spoken of it several times, spoke of how she wanted to get involved or do some good deed or another; he vaguely remembered mentioning she need not worry herself with such things because she was already kind enough, but she had laughed it off. Christine always had been religious, and so had her father before her.

"Church, then?"  
"Yes. I heard your door, though, so I thought I'd get up a bit earlier than planned."

Erik felt a twinge of guilt for being the cause of her early rising, but he swallowed the emotion for her sake. She seemed contented and he wouldn't ruin that.  
Christine, in the meantime, had moved to pour both her and Erik a glass of juice and busied herself by setting the table. 

"Would you care to come with me, Erik? It's not all that long."

Erik, on the other hand, was not a religious man. He questioned religion, and sometimes, even found himself turning to bitterness; what God could create such a monster like him? It baffled him, and it lead to his general avoidance of organized religion altogether.

"No, thank you for offering though."

A sigh; she had already known the response, so she didn't press the matter. It hadn't taken long for the masked man to present the breakfast, and to even eat a piece of toast himself; she was once again content and that pleased her angel. 

They had enjoyed a pleasant conversation, one which involved her prodding at the time he had decided to relax and just how much he'd managed to put together in her absence until a buzzing interrupted her train of thought. The blonde had retrieved her phone and momentarily excused herself, leaving Erik to admire her from afar. 

It did not look like a pleasant conversation. And upon her return she looked thoroughly shaken; he couldn't help but hate whoever spoke to her. 

"Erik, I have to ask you for a really big favor."  
"Is everything alright?"  
"Our organist is sick--we don't have anyone else this last minute and I know you play--"  
"No, Christine. I have better things to do then go and play for nearly two hours--"  
"Please, Erik? I'm cantoring and I don't know who else I can trust to be able to sight read like you." 

Now that had put Erik in a particularly difficult situation. He didn't want to go play some boring, basic songs, sit, wait for cues he was accustomed to despite his lack of interest because maybe Christine had been able to drag him to a mass or two. But he wanted nothing more than to make her happy and, above all, was so deeply complimented that she thought so highly of his skills--that she trusted him above everyone else. And just looking at that face; that innocent face with those large, pleading eyes, those beautiful features--

Shit.

"Fine. I'll meet you there." 

Erik had learned it was best to pick his battles with Christine; she could be a stubborn one despite her seemingly gentile nature. The smile that crossed her face, however, was all the payment he needed. She'd thanked him immensely and repeatedly before she darted out the door, eagerly phoning the other caller once more. A sigh passed his lips, and he found a hand running through his brown locks. 

He had some work to do.

~•~•~•~

Christine felt as though her stomach was a bundle of nerves. Erik was most always good on his word, especially when it concerned herself, however having to sing in front of a church full of people with an absent organist was enough to cause her anxiety to rise. She had always been told it was a mark of a good performer, but now this served as no solace for the girl. 

When the glittering of porcelain caught her gaze, Christine was able to heave a sigh. And then she took in the rest of him. 

The dancer had never pegged Erik to be the type of person to own anything other than black. A splash of color every now and then was hardly unconventional, but a coral colored blazer was something she never thought she'd catch Erik in. Everything else was akin to his typical attire; grey pants and vest with a grey and coral stripped tie to match, all pulled together by the white porcelain mask leaving thin lips exposed to the open. Christine was left admiring the man standing before her; the smile that bloomed across her face was an unconscious movement.

"Erik, look at you!"  
He had to do his best to bite back a smile.  
"Yes, well, I felt that black was inappropriate."  
"Well, you look great. Here, let me show you where the organ is." 

Christine had slipped a hand in the other's larger, bony one and lead him along. His heart fluttered, and he simply allowed himself to be lead up a flight of stairs into the church balcony. There were various pews, but more importantly, the large pipe organ was positioned near the banister. Christine had left everything immaculate, as was accustomed for her. His music was placed in a binder, all neatly laminated and ready for his arrival. It was then he allowed himself to smile, and he moved to sit himself down before the instrument. His hands took up the binder, flipped through the pages. 

"Will you be ok? It isn't anything too hard, right?"  
She watched as his golden eyes examined the pages, his hand rose, flipped to the end, and the binder was snapped shut.  
"Simple. I shouldn't have any problems. I'll follow you, then, you can set the pace."  
Christine gave a nod of the head, and her warm smile remained.  
"Alright. I'll head down then. Thank you again, Erik. I owe you." 

Owe him; hah. It was enough to make him laugh right there. How could she possibly owe him when she allowed him to indulge by hearing her sing? Her voice was flawless; he was certain she could rival the angels themselves and here in church her voice rang out just as those winged deities. She was perfection as always; and of course, he noticed as people lingered to praise her excellence. He could only watch, so full of pride (and love) from the balcony. 

Perhaps he would be more inclined to attend mass if this were the case. 

After some wading through the crowd Christine returned to her Erik, still smiling through it all. She was such a beautifully optimistic woman; he truly appreciated that about her. 

"Beautiful, as usual." He commented, and Christine laughed soon after; brushed a stray piece of hair from her face.  
"You always have something nice to say."  
"How could I not with a voice like that?"  
"Erik, you know I'm not--"  
"Christine!" 

The voice was an unfamiliar one and the appearance of a man caused a distinct frown to cross Erik's face. A young man had appeared from behind the door; he was a strapping youth and a very handsome one at that. His hair was blonde in color, though not the same light and elegant one as his Christine; it was much richer; golden and was carefully brushed and styled so that it rested perfectly in place. His eyes were blue and soft; in retrospect he seemed like a very gentle man, and yet he still carried himself with a confidence that he'd seen in many men around his age.  
He was brazen, and he moved to embrace the woman with little hesitation (and little resistance on her part). 

Erik scowled, though it was obvious the pair were content. 

When Christine pulled away he noticed the hand that still lingered on her shoulder, though her own joy was very apparent.  
"Erik, this is Raoul! We went to school together, he's a dear friend of mine. Raoul, this is Erik. He's my teacher. He did me a big favor by playing today."  
He watched the blonde man, Raoul, take him in, before a hand was offered to the specter.  
"It's a pleasure."  
While he wanted nothing more to turn up his nose, he accepted the outstretched appendage, gave it a quick shake, then retracted his hand. The only verbal response he'd given was a short hum. 

"Christine and I ran into each other after her show a month back, which of course was absolutely phenomenal." Christine had tisked in response, and Erik could see the smile on the man's face grow; what did he ever do to elicit such pride?  
"She speaks very highly of you."  
"He deserves it." 

Erik was disinterested; that much was very obvious, but the pair still seemed uplifted regardless. 

"Anyway, I'm going to be heading over to Raoul's for dinner--can I pick up my bag later?" 

Erik couldn't help but feel contempt for this man who he had just met; he hated the way he so effortlessly embraced her; hated the physical contact he made, hated his pride and his looks. The man had feelings for her, even an imbecile could see such and he swooped in to praise hard work Christine and himself had made. He couldn't stop his lips from pursing, nor his eyes from narrowing, sending a burning gaze through his very being.  
"Very well, I'll see you then." And with that he decided to take his leave. 

He decided it best not to turn back and take one final fleeting glance, it would only enhance his slow burning jealousy and rage. Even as he sat, darkness creeping around him, hands banging at nonsensical keys he could feel these negative emotions swirling; he could feel his heart sinking, stabbing, breaking--  
This was some brazen fool reaping their rewards; he spoke of beauty but knew not of what that truly was; he had a shallow understanding of true beauty, of her beauty! He was nothing more than a common pretty-boy seeking after a beautiful young woman who certainly only had the purest of intentions--seeking his angel.

And yet she went with the suitor. 

Erik lifted his pen, scribbled a few haphazard notes and continued his cacophony of dissonance and darkness that only scratched the surface of how grim he truly felt. 

When the doorbell rang he paused, listened as familiar footsteps entered, as a sweet voice called to him. She carried something with her, something that was soon put down and was being removed. So, he was second, then. Of course, he was. She had mentioned her return to grab her things; items he had already neatly packed away and had ready at the door, but it seemed the stubborn woman was rather set on staying so the man had no choice but to stalk down there and see just what was keeping her. 

A small meal had been spread out over his dining room table and Erik found himself frozen in place. 

"Christine, what is this?" His voice was distant; almost weak.  
"You mentioned you weren't doing anything for Easter; I thought I would bring it to you, then. I know you don't celebrate but I think it's important so--well, no one should be alone on any holiday."  
The Phantom composer found his eyes grazing over the small meal, still rather surprised by such an act.  
"Did you make this?"  
"Yes! Though, I didn't expect to stay over last night so I had to finish everything up today. That's why I'm so late, I'm sorry. You must be starving."  
Or not; she knew all too well his hunger was fleeting and rare. 

Erik had approached the table during her explanation, and his thin hands found themselves wrapping around the back of her chair, then carefully pulled it back for her.  
"What of that friend of yours?"  
"Raoul? Nothing. I mentioned I might have had to leave early so he understood. I'm just glad I made it over when I did."

She was pushed in after that, and Erik found his heart give the slightest jolt. She'd left for him; she'd cooked for him, and this wasn't the same as the other times this was different because she'd given up time with an old friend for him. That meant more than anything to him. As he sat himself down he could see a light bulb flash in the woman's head and, just as he thought, she spoke once more.

"I just wanted to thank you again for today. Everyone asked me who you were because your playing was beautiful."  
"Yes, well, perhaps it wasn't so bad. I did get to hear you sing."  
Christine laughed yet again.  
"You flatter me."  
"It's always deserved."  
The two sat for a few moments afterward, silence surrounding them, but it was hardly constricting. Instead it was a quiet understanding and even contentedness. 

"Christine?"  
"Yes?"  
"If you ever need someone to play again, I suppose I could clear my schedule. If need be."  
Christine smiled broadly, and soon after gave a very gentle nod of the head.  
"Alright, I’ll remember that."

Perhaps church wasn't so terrible; although Erik had questioned gods and religion he had finally resolved to believe that there was, in fact, some higher power up there. For if there wasn't however would such a perfect angel such as Christine Daaé crossed his path? No, he would play if she needed, because he did owe somebody for that.

**Author's Note:**

> OOPS! A day late and a dollar short but it's better late then never, I guess!


End file.
